Outcast
by Silenthunder
Summary: This awful time of rejection leaves deeper scars than ever before. The POV of Grizabella during her song.


**AN: I don't own CATS or its songs.**

I walk down the alleyway with slow footsteps, eager and yet afraid. Surely they cannot have forgotten me. Surely they will welcome me. I am one of them, after all. Memories of happy gatherings come back. I can even remember the song that began the Event...

_Jellicle Cats come out tonight_

_Jellicle Cats come one, come all_

The night is lit only by the moon, a full one. I smile.

_The Jellicle Moon is shining bright_

_Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball_

But then I stop, nervous, as the side-entrance to the Junkyard comes in sight. A foreboding feeling hovers in the air. Dare I go in?

_Jellicle Cats come out tonight_

_Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball_

I am a Jellicle, I decide, and therefore I am free to enter.

Putting my eye to a small hole in the door, I glimpse the others crowded around a certain black and golden cat. Who is that?

Well, better to go in now before I lose my nerve.

I enter, smiling, hoping that they won't mind a Jellicle coming late. Now I can see that the cat everyone else has been admiring is Rum Tum Tugger. He was only a kit when I left. He's gotten quite handsome over the years.

But then I see him pointing at me with an accusatory finger, unhappy with being interrupted. Everyone else turns to stare in my direction. Tugger fluffs out his mane huffily, glaring. Then he stamps away sulkily.

A black and white tom comes forward, holding out a paw to shake. But then he is pushed away by an older tom. I look into the face of Munkustrap, one of the Jellicles I remember, and he gives me a knowing look that tells me he remembers my black past. And he has not forgiven me for it.

The atmosphere has changed, taking the joyfulness with it. And I realize that I will never be accepted as one of them.

Another, a female kitten, comes forward, but her arm is grabbed by Skimbleshanks, who glances at me before herding the young one away.

I take a few steps, only to be stopped by the one female who absolutely hated me when I was younger. She's beautiful now, a queen any tom would die for. She strides up to me – no, struts. Scorn is in her face and every movement as she circles behind me, sizing me up in the same way I used to do to those unfortunates. _Not so pretty now, are you?_ she wordlessly mocks, stopping once to glance at my shame-filled face, then to turn her head away in distaste. _Look at you now. A drab, ugly nobody._

A brown and white tom's approach is halted by another black and white tom, who shakes his head at me.

Another cat catches my eye, beckoning. With a small smile, I step forward, but without warning he lashes out, scratching my left paw.

Will the hurt and betrayal never end?

Now here comes Demeter, both arms outstretched. I see that she is as nervous as I am, given with the worried looks of everyone else. I don't move as she stands barely an inch away, holding my breath. But just before contact, she changes her mind and scuttles off. When she stops, she gives me a haunted look of remembrance before turning away.

Munkustrap has moved so he's now crouched before me in a defensive position. As if I can do anything!

I feel as though I must say something, or rather, sing something. Emotion always comes through better that way. So I dare to look straight into his eyes, using words that would describe my unspeakable actions.

_Remark the cat who hesitates towards you_

_In the light of the door which opens on her like a grin_

Do you remember, Munkustrap? Do you remember the rumors of what you were told I had become? You can never understand how I felt each day as I walked into the buildings, into the rooms where desired forbiddance took place. They all smiled, they all jeered, used me for all I was worth.

I turn to see an adult female cat, holding back two curious kittens. I remember you, Jellylorum.

_You see the border of her coat is torn and stained with sand_

You were quite a looker in your day, Jellylorum, but you were envious of my beauty. I am now no longer lovely. Are you happy now?

A black, sleek, flexible queen strikes a pose. I stare at her, a vain creature.

_And you see the corner of her eye twist like a crooked pin_

You will learn, young one, that beauty is not everything.

The queen comes close, but leaves at a glare from Munkustrap, who is now behind me. I look into the guardian's eyes pleadingly, but find no warmth.

Well, they've made their point. But I will not leave like an outcast. Instead I start walking slowly away, my face now a mask. I will maintain my pride and dignity, no matter what.

A new voice sings behind me somewhere, but I keep going, trying to ignore the cold stares.

_She haunted a many low resort near the grimy road of Tottenham Court_

_She flitted about the No Man's Land from "The Rising Sun" to "The Friend At Hand"_

Even though it was a bad time with the brothels, it was also one of my best times. I grew quite famous. Cats would remark on my prettiness until my name spread far beyond what I could have imagined. I smile at the memories.

_And the postman sighed as he scratched his head: "You'd really have thought she'd ought to be dead!"_

I stop, the happiness leaving, grief and shame replacing it. That's what my reputation has come to, then. I'm a piece of baggage. Someone who's so miserable that they'd be better off dead. And worse of all, they're right.

_And who would ever suppose that that was Grizabella the Glamour Cat?_

You'd barely be able to recognize me from my glory days. Now I wish they didn't recognize me. I cover my face, ashamed at my name that is now spat with venom.

_Grizabella the Glamour Cat, Grizabella the Glamour Cat_

I walk more quickly now, anything to escape from the abandonment, betrayal and anger.

Now every voice joins in, loud in their accusation.

_And who would ever suppose that that was Grizabella the Glamour Cat?_

I stand still for a moment, then suddenly flee, overcome. I hear footsteps behind me following, but don't stop. I am an outcast, one they will never acknowledge or socialize with. And I now realize that it is something I was expecting would happen. But I never believed it would.

Until now.

**AN: Someone once told me that "The Rising Sun" and "The Friend At Hand" were two famous Victorian-Age brothels, AKA whorehouses (look it up if you need more info; I'm not gong to explain, because it's a touchy subject). This really explained why Grizabella was so despised by the Tribe. Hope you liked this!**


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